


They Always Know

by Ehm



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gap Filler, Hall of Shame: Daddy Issues, Idiots in Love, M/M, Season/Series 11, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ehm/pseuds/Ehm
Summary: In which Mickey has a tendency to lash out and Ian has a tendency to speak without thinking.But they love each other anyway.---Ian and Mickey during the Hall of Shame episode.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 145





	They Always Know

**Author's Note:**

> I know some people were upset by the casual nature of this episode, and I totally get why. This is just my attempt at making sense of it, while still keeping the boys somewhat in character. It's not my intention to upset anyone. If you were upset with this episode... Read with caution?

Mickey slammed the door behind him and stomped down the stairs. A steady, internal chant of _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ seemed to follow him all the way to the Alibi.

How had the day turned to shit that fast? It had started out so well. He'd gotten five blow jobs in ten hours and given one (what, it's not his fault Ian kept accepting rematches), and was in the middle of getting a sixth. That was peak life, as far as Mickey was concerned.

Then Ian had gotten one stupid text message and everything deteriorated so fucking fast Mickey wasn't even sure how it happened.

He stomped into the Alibi and got a beer from Vee, who took one look at his stormy face and wisely decided not to comment. Mickey didn't feel like dealing with Tommy and Kermit and their particular brand of dumbassery right then, so he got a seat in a booth and spent at least ten minutes staring angrily into his beer.

It didn't make him feel better.

He tried really hard to keep the anger at Ian going - _87 fucking percent?_ \- but the guilt churning in his belly was winning the fight for attention.

The things Mickey said about Ian's bipolar disorder... Had he really used the words _crazy ass loon_? Fuck, Ian should have punched him. Instead, he just got that small, sad look on his face that made Mickey feel like the worst human on the planet.

Why was Mickey so bad at this? They never used to fight this way. He'd always blamed the bickering in prison on, well, _being in prison_ , but what if it wasn't? What if this was just the way they were when there were no major dramas hanging over their heads? When there were no homophobic fathers, bipolar episodes, forced marriages, or babies to occupy them, maybe this was... them.

The thought terrified the shit out of him.

Vee must have decided that he looked too pathetic to leave alone anymore, because she sat down opposite him and swapped his almost empty bottle for a new one.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, and gave him that patented Vee stare that made Mickey feel all kinds of exposed.

"Ian and I had a fight," he muttered, watching his beer intently rather than meet Vee's eyes. She sighed.

"So what else is new?"

"It wasn't like that. This was a _fight_ fight."

Vee looked upset. "You guys didn't hit each other again, did you?"

"No," Mickey groaned. "Pretty sure that would have been better."

"First of all," Vee said, "you guys should never hit each other, what's wrong with you, and second of all, just tell me what happened."

"I don't know, one second we're fooling around and the next Ian's telling me he doesn't love me with his whole heart and I accuse him of always leaving when shit gets tough and he called me a dumb thug and I-" Mickey stopped, the harsh words he'd said to Ian too difficult to repeat.

"What?"

"I said being a thug was better than being a crazy loon," Mickey said quietly. "I threw his bipolar disorder in his face." He dropped his forehead to the table and banged it once against the wood. "Ian's gonna divorce me."

"You are such a drama queen." Mickey couldn't see Vee rolling her eyes, but he _heard_ it. "He's not going to divorce you just because you said a shitty thing."

"But what if he divorces me for all the _hundred_ shitty things I've said and done since we got married?" Mickey raised his head and looked desperately at Vee. "Our entire marriage so far has been insane amounts of fucking followed by fighting about dumb shit."

Vee patted his hand. "That's not all your marriage has been and you know it. It just feels that way because your honeymoon coincided with the stupid 'rona. Quarantine hasn't been good for anyone. Kev and I have had some nasty fights, too." She lowered her voice. "Last week we got into a silly fight about the girls' bedtime and it ended with him saying that at least he always wanted them. Threw my... _difficulties_ after they were born right in my face."

"That doesn't sound like Kev," Mickey frowned. "No offense, but the guy's not smart enough to be cruel on purpose. Plus, you know, he's a good guy."

"It's not," Vee agreed. "It was just a stupid fight where he said something he didn't mean because he was upset. It happens."

"Fuck," Mickey rubbed his eyebrows. "Who knew this marriage thing would be so fucking hard?"

"No one, until they got married," Vee patted his hand again and stood up. "Now finish your beer, cheer up, and go give your husband an apology blow job or whatever it is you guys do to make up."

She went back to the bar and left Mickey to slowly finish his drink. About halfway through, a couple of morons came into the bar, ordered drinks, and then left their bags sitting wide open on the table while they went to play pool. Like morons.

_Play stupid games, win stupid prizes_ , Mickey thought and snatched the bags off the table. They had around a hundred dollars in cash and Mickey was about to gleefully relieve them off it when he caught sight of a wedding ring sitting in one of the bags.

It made him think of Ian. His husband. Shit, this was exactly what Ian had accused him of doing, wasn't it? The exact kind of thing Ian didn't want him doing. He hesitated for a second, then sighed.

"Stupid Gallagher."

Mickey put the wedding ring and the money back where he found it, finished his beer with a flourish, and walked over to throw the bags on the pool table.

"Hey, dipshits, don't leave your shit lying around for someone to steal. Morons. Who the fuck wears those man purses anyway?" He stomped off.

_Fine, Ian_. Maybe Mickey could be _slightly less_ of a dumb thug. Scamming the system for survival money? Still gonna do that. Stealing just because he could? Well, he supposed he had to grow up at some point.

\---

Ian had been pounding on the boxing bag at Kev's gym for ten minutes and still didn't feel any better. Every punch was punctuated with a resounding, internal _fuck_.

How had he ended up here? One second he was blowing his husband and the next he was imagining his face on a boxing bag. Okay, so not really, but he still felt really fucking angry.

And guilty.

Why had he thought it was a good idea to put a number on his love for Mickey? He knew Mickey was sensitive about that, his husband had abandonment issues coming out his ass. As evidenced by how he immediately brought up Ian's tendency to leave when things got hard to deal with.

Seeing that facebook update had hit him harder than he thought it would. (Was it stupid to still have Ned as a friend on facebook? Yes. But in his defense, who still used facebook? He hadn't updated that shit in years. He just kept the app on his phone just in case.)

Ian couldn't really help the pang of sadness the news of Ned's death had brought. Yeah, his life and the things they'd gone through back then were fucked up, but Ned had mostly been good to him. Ian, as fucked up as it was, had cared about Ned. He couldn't turn that off, even if he perhaps should.

He didn't have to throw it in Mickey's face, though.

And Mickey didn't have to bring up his bipolar episodes. Christ, Mickey certainly knew where to hit the hardest. That was Mickey in a nutshell, though, wasn't it? When he got upset he lashed out. With fucking _precision_.

Ian hit the boxing bag again. _Fuck_.

In the corner of his eye he saw the hot guy who'd been eyeing him since he came in start to move toward him. He started rolling his hips a little bit, like they were in a night club and not in a gym in the middle of the day.

The lack of a social life during the quarantine really made people do some weird shit.

Ian slowed his punches and couldn't help but grin a tiny bit. Whatever else was going on in his life, he'd always been able to get attention from guys. He couldn't deny that it felt just a little bit good. This guy didn't care about Ian or his disorder or his shitty past decisions, he just cared that Ian was hot.

Ian felt slightly silly but started moving a little with the beat, letting the guy know he could come closer. _See, Mickey_ , he felt like saying. _If you don't want this_ crazy loon _there are plenty of other guys who do_.

The thought of Mickey stopped him in his tracks. _Fuck_. A half-forgotten memory resurfaced, a hazy recollection of lap dances and little white pills. Mickey coming to get him, Mickey waiting out in the cold for hours just to bring him home. Mickey not once judging him or trying to control him, just standing watch like a silent guardian every night. Ian's own personal body guard.

Mickey, despite his snark and his bad habit of getting mean when he was hurt, had never once judged him for what he did when he was manic. Mickey had taken all that hurt and worry in stride, because all he ever really wanted was for Ian to be okay.

Ian looked at the guy again, and felt that tiny bit of excitement dissipate like nothing.

"Stupid Milkovich," he grumbled to himself, but didn't really mean it. He knew, as he had for years, that he'd never feel that way about anyone other than Mickey again. Who was he trying to fool?

Suddenly all he wanted was to see Mickey. That was the paradox of being in love, wasn't it? Even when Mickey was the one that hurt him, he was also the only thing that could make him feel better.

Ian didn't even say anything to the guy, just turned around, grabbed his stuff, and left the gym.

\---

Mickey had gotten a six-pack out of the fridge and fully intended on drinking until he felt tired enough to pass out. The game he and Ian had been playing that morning was still running on his phone, and it was a good enough distraction in between gulps of beer.

Still, when Ian walked through the door Mickey felt the alcohol, the distractions, and even the anger slip away and all that was left was the fucking guilt.

He looked away.

For a second he thought Ian would just walk right past him, but then he hesitated at the end of the couch. The relief Mickey felt when Ian sat down was almost palpable.

"You softy," Ian said as he sat. Mickey felt a wave of love and gratefulness wash over him. Ian was always there with the olive branch, always there to make up for what Mickey lacked.

"I'm _sensitive_ ," Mickey corrected. "You're soft, remember?"

Calling himself sensitive was probably the closest Mickey was going to get to admitting that he was hurt, but Ian knew that. Ian always knew.

There was a beat of silence, and Mickey thought desperately. He needed a way to bring up what happened - what he said - without getting him or Ian upset and ruining the olive branch Ian had so generously extended.

"So, how'd your bipolar tirade go?"

_Nice going, moron. Nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a joke._

"Oh, so crazy. Thanks for asking."

Mickey smiled down at his beer. He didn't know what he'd ever done to deserve someone like Ian, but he wanted to keep doing it forever. Who, other than Ian, could have heard the apology in what Mickey said?

"How'd your stealing shit go?"

"Great, I have so much more stuff now."

If sarcasm were a love language, Ian and Mickey would be the most romantic fuckers on earth.

"Sometimes we really suck at this relationship stuff, huh?" Mickey said, trying his best to keep the casual tone going.

"That's because you're an asshole," Ian grumbled. _Fair_.

"Takes one to know one, bitch," Mickey touched his beer can to Ian's, a silent acknowledgement that yeah, he'd been an asshole. The corner of Ian's mouth turned up and Mickey knew they'd be okay.

\---

Ian was aware he'd been the one to suggest it, but even he had to admit it didn't feel ideal. He'd always had a secret fantasy of relaxing in the bath with his lover, but the reality fell somewhat short at the moment.

"This is gay," Mickey stated, looking distastefully at the bubbles surrounding him.

"We're gay," Ian responded tiredly.

He knew Mickey probably got the short end of the stick here. Ian's longer legs were crowding him and it looked like he had the tap poking him in the armpit. But fuck, couldn't he at least give it a shot? Ian was just about to suggest a position change - maybe Mickey could lay back against his chest - when Mickey spoke again.

"I don't think I'm this gay." He paused, considering it. "Nope, I'm not this gay."

Mickey stood up, dripping water all over the bathroom floor, and put his underwear on without even drying himself off.

"Can't we just do one romantic thing together?" Ian asked exasperatedly.

"I don't know what you want from me, okay?" Mickey shot back. "I'm not into this frilly, smelly shit."

Well that was a goddamn lie. Ian remembered, with vivid clarity, Mickey's insistence on blue stargazer lilies and gold chairs with white cushions, but decided this was the wrong time to bring it up. Maybe he _was_ getting better at this marriage stuff.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned with Mickey actually walked out of the bathroom, and stood up to follow him. He grabbed something to cover himself with (Debbie's bathrobe being the only thing within reach) and yelled,

"You fucking never wanna do what I wanna do."

Mickey popped back out of their bedroom, seething.

"Maybe that's because you're always trying to change me!"

"Maybe some change would be good for ya," Ian poked Mickey in the shoulder. Ian didn't really mean that, but damn, it would be nice if Mickey's fuse got just a little bit longer. If he could sit in a bath for more than two seconds, just because Ian asked him to.

"Fuck you, why don't you change?" Mickey shoved him, and that pissed Ian off even more. Hadn't Mick just been complaining that they fought, like physically fought, too much?

"You're more fucked up than I am," Ian accused and shoved back.

"Bullshit, you're the king of fucked up." Ian's back hit the wall, and suddenly the mood changed. Ian was pretty sure they were _both_ fucked up beyond all help, because this roughhousing was turning them on.

"Yeah," he grinned. This was not normal, but he had a hard time caring.

Like he'd read his mind, Mickey chuckled and said, in a low voice, "I don't do normal, Gallagher." _Fuck_. Mickey sounded so happy about it and it made Ian a little bit giddy.

Ian flipped them and crowded Mickey up against the wall, looking down on him with a smirk. "I don't either."

Ian stared at him for a moment, just taking in how fucking gorgeous his husband was, how overcome he was with want, and then pounced. He used his hands, already gripping Mickey's neck tightly, to pull him in for a rough kiss. He ghosted his thumb along Mickey's throat, a promise of what was to come, and felt Mickey moan into the kiss.

Ian couldn't keep his hands still, he wanted to touch Mickey everywhere at once, and even started to lift Mickey up against the wall before deciding that nah, he'd rather fuck his husband in their bed.

They broke the kiss and panted into each others mouths, grinning.

"Fucking love you," Mickey murmured, his smile so bright it crinkled the skin around his eyes in that way that always made Ian's heart flutter.

"I love you, too," he said intensely, trying to push everyhing he felt into those four words.

_I love you._

_Everything about you._

_Even when we fight._

_Even when you hurt me._

_Even when everything goes wrong._

_I don't want you to change._

_I love you with my whole heart._

If there was one thing Ian was absolutely sure about, it was that Mickey knew all of that with needing to hear it. Mickey always knew.

Ian kissed his husband again, and pushed them into the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I know Vee wasn't in this episode, but I added her in anyway. Because everything is better with a little Vee.  
> \- I have absolutely no idea how Ian would have gotten the news about Ned, it seems so random. So I just decided that someone (maybe Jimmy-Steve) converted his facebook page to a memorial page, and that's how he found out. Why he would get a notification on that idk.  
> \- I skipped the discussion on whether Terry or Frank is worse because I just couldn't think of a way to make it work. Also, I mostly wanted to focus on the fight they had in the beginning of the episode.  
> \- I don't love that Ian and Mickey resolve their anger by shoving each other, but it is what it is. They're fucked up, but it's in character for them now. What can you do.  
> \- Do I overuse italics? Yes. Am I ever going to stop? _No._  
>  \- I don't have a beta and English is not my first language, so if something doesn't make sense it's probably because I used a word wrong.


End file.
